Last Dance
by Future Memory
Summary: Stelena one shot, based on the Prom scene from 4x19, Pictures of You.


He's going to move on. He has to move on. The plan was to get Elena her humanity back and then leave. He could have let Damon handle everything, but he was too scared to leave Elena alone in his hands. His brother rarely does the right thing, and even when he does, he does it the wrong way. He owes it to her. Maybe some would argue he doesn't owe her anything, but he does. Maybe he's still carrying the guilt of his choices, her choices, the feeling of responsibility over what happened to her. He vowed to protect her, to keep her safe, to make her happy, and even though all of those things were partially out of his control, he still felt the responsibility for failing to provide her with all three, and much, much more.

Maybe this is not going to make things right, getting her humanity back. But it's the start. He can give her a new start, again, but the rest is up to her. Because he's done.

He can't go back to who he was before. He can't go back to wandering again. If he does, then all of this will be for nothing. He knows better now, but he can't achieve better if he's so close to her. Watching her in love with someone else, loving someone else, going to bed with another man. He wants her to be happy, but in the same time he can't stand himself being so unhappy anymore. He can't be selfless all the time, and swallowing selfishness made the inside of his throat taste bitter, made everything else harder to swallow. He never thought it through, his relationship with her. He was so happy, in the beginning, he had no time to wonder. He had no reason to wonder, because they had all the time in the world. People keep saying life is short, but it's not true. Life is the longest thing any of them will experience. And for him, life is endless. He knew he won't be able to keep her forever, because she's not his to keep. She doesn't belong to the kind of life he's living, and unlike him, she should be able to make her choice. She never wanted to be a vampire. He knew he will have to leave her sooner or later.

And then, she became a vampire, because oh him. He gave her a right to choose, but he took away her choice to live, and that's something he will have to carry around with him for as long as he exists. It gave him a certain kind of hope, though. Hope she will never leave him. He loved her, she loved him, and it was as simple as that, until it got complicated. The thought of her leaving him to love someone else never occurred to him.

Maybe that was his mistake. He was too sure nothing can go wrong that everything went wrong. He should have known better, she shouldn't have been so sure they will make it. But when you love someone, when you're so happy and blissful and content, what other choice do you have? When you look up at the sky and notice the sun shining at you, you don't think about the rain, you think what a beautiful day it is. The same is with love. When someone is there next to you, you don't think about them leaving until they're gone.

So he has to give her this. He has to make her come back.

Why? Only to leave her alone?

No, she won't be alone. She will have Damon by her side. He will make her happy. Or at least he'll try his best.

So he's watching her walk towards him, and he's trying to remember has she ever told him any of her plans for the Prom.

He's trying his best to remember, but he can't. He was trying too hard to block Elena out of his memory that, when it comes to some things, he succeeded.

She most likely did. She used to love these things, she loved to dance.

Her dress is stunning, but he can't say she looks beautiful, not the way she used to. The smile is nowhere to be seen on her face. She's snarly and doesn't even accept the bouquet of flowers he had brought for her. Damon has to force a corsage on her wrist, something he's glad he doesn't have to do. He doesn't want to force her to do anything.

He digs the memory out of somewhere and remembers how she used to look forward to it, to the Prom.

Too bad she will have to miss it.

* * *

She tries to understand herself and her reasons for attending the dance. To cause more misery, more pain? To show them they can't control her, that she's in charge of the situation? To ruin things for anyone who might care for these trivial things, like her friends? If she has any friends left, anyway.

Caring. Such a silly thing humans do. Like it ever gets you anywhere, like it ever benefits you. The more you care, the more you hurt, and why should she want to hurt anymore?

Why should she care when the only thing caring ever brought her was pain?

To keep moving, Stefan always says. To have a reason to live.

Or maybe to fill in this void inside of herself. This damn emptiness that come over night, the feeling something is missing. The feeling something is wrong.

Maybe all she wants to do is stop this screaming inside of her head, and the feeling something is tearing her up from the inside. The feeling something is taking her non existent breath away.

So she steals her best friends dress to make a statement no one seems to care about anymore because they have accepted this is her now and they expect these things from her. That doesn't mean they still don't want to change her which irritates her beyond any words can express. She does her hair, but she doesn't put much effort into it so it doesn't seem like she's trying.

She doesn't have any evil diabolical plans. She doesn't have to put much effort into hurting anyone. The only thing she has to do is refuse her friends desperate need to help her, maybe punching them where it hurts the most while doing so, because once upon a time she was the person they told all of their secrets to so she has more than enough material to work with. She never expected them to give up, but it's annoying how they linger around her constantly.

Stefan and Damon will be a bigger problem. Weren't they always? They gave up on the search for the cure, but they never agreed to stop trying to turn her humanity on to the point where she begs them to find the cure for her.

Damon will be less of a problem. He's easy to crush. Her feelings for him are such an easy and obvious target that few words will bring him crashing down.

Stefan is a much bigger problem. Because unlike Damon, he knows her. He knows what to say to make her think. He can use that one second, one blink of an eye, to find a crack in her wall and squeeze himself through it. She will have to be careful with Stefan.

So let the show begin.

* * *

He takes her by surprise. She hates surprises.

She hates everything she once used to love.

He creeps up on her, and catches her unprepared, like always, just this time not as subtly as he used to.

There's a surprise on her face and she preys he hasn't seen it.

But he has, and he's proud of himself, to still have such an effect on her.

That he's able to surprise her after so much time.

He pulls her towards himself and she lands onto his chest, her hands first.

She wants him to let her go, but he doesn't. She's afraid of his ability to get through to her, even for a second. Even a second is enough for him.

She knows the truth is the greatest weapon. It's harsh and uncomfortable and people don't like to hear it. She's been able to get everyone off her back by using it. Everyone but Stefan. He doesn't hide from the truth or run away from it. He embraces it. Even if it does hurt him, he doesn't show it.

"So, you're just here to help Rebekah get the cure, right?" he asks. She knows what he's doing, he's trying to ease her up. And unlike Damon, who was using words, wrong words nevertheless, Stefan is using actions. Closeness. Reminding her of how it once was. "On what happens to be the most sentimental night of high school," he makes a statement.

She gives him a look. "You think this is my cry for help?" Why can't she move her palm from his back? Or her hand from his? She doesn't care. She doesn't feel. She's like a stone. And just like a stone, it's hard for her to move. She feels like her whole weight is on him. There's a smile on his face. He thinks he has her. "I'd be happy to show you what a real cry for help sounds like," she teases him, but not in her sweet, joking voice she used to use before. It's cold, and flat, and she's half serious. He exhales a stream of air and a smile disappears from his face.

Her face expression turns serious before he lowers it down. "So," he raises his head to look at her, "This, us," her eyes are playing with his, there's a light fire inside of them, and for a moment there, to him, it seems like her eyes are smiling at him, "You feel nothing?"

"I feel nothing," she answers instantly, coldly.

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care."

They're playing a match, and she's winning. Her voice is becoming soft, almost casual. He sounds desperate, at least to her.

A soft smirk is playing on his lips. "So," he brings his head closer to hers, burying his cheek into her hair, "You don't remember how it used to feel like when we danced?" he says silently, almost whispers to her. His fingers travel up her back, under her hair, and she feels shivers, even though she doesn't show it. She learned how to hide it by now. "When my hand would touch your waist?" she makes herself comfortable in the crook between his neck and shoulder as his hand travels to her waist and finds itself home down on her back, right above her bottom.

"No," she answers casually, few seconds after he asked the question.

"Mhm," he says. His voice is smoky, deep, seductive. "How about this?" she can feel his hot breath on her ear, "When our fingers would touch?" he intertwines his fingers with hers, squeezing her hand, and after some time, only few seconds fighting with her own need, she closes her fingers around his. Their hands collapse together.

She brushes her cheek against his shoulder, and this time when she say "Nothing," her voice is not casual anymore. It's hard.

It's becoming harder to lie for her.

It's becoming harder to hide the truth.

"And this?" his lips are so close to her ear that she can feel them scraping against the edge of it. His hold on her back becomes harder, and his finger tighten around hers some more, and he tips her down. Slow, fast, she can't tell, because it's a blur.

It's a memory.

It's past, present and future.

It's reality.

It hurts, and she's not supposed to feel anything.

His lips are so close to hers, she can feel his breath on her face when he speaks, "Does your heart really refuse to remember?" his voice is husky, sexy. Their noses touch.

He props her back up, and there's confusion written all over her face. Surprise. Shock.

Feelings.

Emotions. Good. Bad. Confusing.

He pulls her back, close to him. Their faces are close.

She's so close to kissing him. Does he want her to kiss him?

He wants her to kiss him.

He wants to kiss her. But he knows more physical contact would only make the situation worse.

She brings her lips closer to his.

Their lips are close. So close.

And then, hers make a turn, and she whispers, "What heart?" letting go of his hand and walking away from him.

He takes Caroline to the dance floor and asks her how does one move on.

She tells him he will fall in love again, and that he will be happy, so happy.

He's not sure he wants to.

Happy.

Fall in love again.

How many times can you fall in love with the same person?


End file.
